Not Quite the Same
by ashestoashesanddusttodust
Summary: Looking at the kid is like looking at himself when Jason was ten. Scared and angry and far too stupid for his own good.
1. Chapter 1

**Not Quite the Same  
**

**A Word**: Anon asked; "JayTim headcanon: Tim finds a kid that reminds him of Jason and brings him home but Jason can't help but feel anger around him and not want to be near. Tim confronts Jason about it but he just blows it off and goes out for a drink or something. He ends up talking to the kid later and sees the brightness that came with being a kid again and how even though he had it bad he had some bright moments."

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It's like looking into a mirror. The cracked and dirt encrusted mirror that Jason threw sheets over years ago when the urge to smash it with his fist got too big to ignore. Except it's not a mirror, it's a kid, and Jason's not- He isn't going to do that.

He's not that kinda scum. He's not. Even if he really feels like that kinda scum now.

Jason's drunk. He knows it as he stumbles up the fire escape to the roof of their building. Bypassing their floor entirely because he isn't fit to be in the company of dogs right now. Not with as much as he drank, and not with as much shitty emotion he's pouring out. Tim had made that pretty damn clear before Jason'd stormed off to the bar earlier. And fuck if that hadn't hurt like a bitch to hear. Tim could be downright vicious without even raising his voice.

Jason trips over a rock or a bottle or something and decides he likes the patch of roof he's on enough to camp out the whole night. The pollution choked black of the night was comforting to look at, spinning only half as much as the world had when he'd been upright. It's always dark in Gotham, and something smacks Jason's face making it even darker still. It takes Jason three extra seconds to work out his face is covered, and another ten to fumble the blanket off him.

"You're drunk," John says, voice thick with accusations. His skinny arms wrapped around his chest as the kid stands there in a shirt and shorts glaring down at Jason. Nothing else. Jason's caught for a moment on the kid's bare toes curling around the neck of a beer bottle and wondering how he'd skipped the shards of glass between Jason and the ladder. "Tim said you weren't coming back."

"Yeah," Jason wants to snarl at the kid. Push him back, get him away, but the beer and shots are laying it on pretty thick in his stomach. Jason knows himself enough to recognize he's a good shout away from purging his system of alcohol the old fashioned way. "Where the fuck else am I gonna go?"

"Good," the kid says, and all the tough punk bravado seems to deflate out of the kid. The eyes looking down at him are scared now and so lost that Jason feels close to losing his stomach contents for another reason. "Tim, Tim was crying kinda. After."

Ah, fuck. Jason closes his eyes and grips the blanket hard. Of course Tim would think that. Even after as long as they'd known each other, he still couldn't get it into his head that Jason said shit he didn't mean when he was angry. Things he'd call himself a dumbass for later once he'd gotten his temper to quit it. "Fuck."

There's a sniffle, and Jason reluctantly opens his eyes. John's crouched down next to him, huddling over his knees. A ball of bones and dirty toes as he glares at the roof under his feet. A scowl on his face almost big enough to make a person ignore the way his eyes shined way too wetly. "You're going to stay. You're a moron but you make Tim smile and he'd be sad without you. So, you're gonna stay, or, or- You're gonna stay!"

The kid's lips quiver with the words, and Jason knows he's not saying them just for Tim. Somehow, the little brat's gotten attached to Jason just as much as he's attached himself to Tim. It hurts even more than the argument with Tim earlier. Makes all the shitty feeling he's been bottling up curdle in him, because he's not looking at a mirror. He's looking at a child, he's looking at John.

Jason sits up and unfolds the blanket. Quickly wrapping the shivering kid up in it and dragging his stiff body into Jason's lap. It's not a hug when he wraps his arms around the boy. Just like the wet spots on Jason's shirt aren't tears as they sit there in —almost— silence. "Christ, brat. Where the fuck else would I go? Be lost without you two, right?"

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	2. Chapter 2

**Not Quite the Same  
**

**A Word**: Yeah, I'm guessing this is now John Blake.

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John glared with all he had at a small spot on the wall. His arms were crossed and every line in his body screamed his anger with the world at large. His lower lip stuck out slightly in a pout that was going to stop being cute when he hit his teens. At which point Jason would probably start mixing straight up chalk with his beer to treat his inevitable ulcers.

"What'd you do this time?" Jason asked as he kicked his boots off into the basket by the window. Amused all over that their entryway was set up right off the fire escape instead of the front door. The one that only Tim and Alfred seemed to use with any regularity.

John's general anger seemed to grow. His back stiffening up and Jason swore he could hear the kid's teeth grinding from across the room. He was like a miniature black hole of anger and resentment. Jason dropped onto the couch and looked at Tim who was doing a remarkable job of ignoring how every bit of that intensity was focused on him. "Ok, why'd you put the kid in the time out corner?"

"John got into a fight at school," Tim flipped through tabs on a spreadsheet faster than Jason's head could handle.

"That all?" Jason grinned and accepted Tim's scathing look as his due. "Did he win?"

"Yes," Tim gave him a tight lipped look that didn't fool Jason one bit. He was just as proud as Jason that their kid wasn't eating dirt at school as much as he used to. "That's not the point, Jason. John's been expelled from school."

"What? Some bully can't handle a little of his own medicine and his mommy and daddy complained?" Jason stretched out, winding an arm around Tim who didn't relax into him. "What's got you so pissed, babe?"

Tim blew out a sharp breath through his nose. He was angrier than he was letting on, but his voice was perfectly even as he said, "John punched out a kid for calling all masks criminals."

Ah ha. Tim was pissed, and scared as fuck to boot. Jason reached over and shut the laptop. Ignoring Tim's protests to pull him close. Hand tangling in his hair and holding him down. "John, get over here."

John slowly broke his glare off with the wall and trudged over to the couch. He made a show of reluctantly sitting next to Jason, not once looking at Tim, but didn't resist when Jason wrapped an arm around him.

Twin pissed off glares hit either side of his face. Jason nearly laughed. Tim could go on for days about how Jason and John were alike but the attitude -Jason was convinced- was all Tim's fault.

"Jason-" Tim started. All prim toned and mad as hell.

"Relax, babe," Jason almost risked a kiss. Tim's flinty eyes promised he wouldn't get his lips back if he tried though. "There's nothing wrong with the kid fighting about heroes. Kids get into fist fights over that all the damn time. No ones going to think it's strange. Hell, people're going to notice if he doesn't get into it with other kids about which Green Lantern is better."

Tim relaxed. Slightly. Hearing what Jason wasn't saying loud and clear. No one was going to connect John to any mask -any of them- over a school yard fight. He wasn't giving any identities away or putting himself in danger of getting more than a split lip.

"And you," Jason ruffled John's hair, ignoring his attempts to duck away, "You shouldn't be starting fights. No matter how," Jason raised his voice over John's grumbling, "stupid the other person's being. You can't punch everyone who makes ya mad."

"But he said Red Hood-" John burst out and Jason felt downright warm and fuzzy that the kid was taking swings over his name. But, there was always one of those especially when dealing with John.

"Don't know, don't care. Idiots will be idiots and what they say doesn't change a damn thing for me," Jason grinned down at John and resolved to hide a candybar in his bag. Maybe two. "I haven't always done right and maybe some people're right to trash talk me, but I'm not going to lose any sleep over them. So next time, let it go. Save Tim a heart attack or three."

John was quiet, anger slowly ebbing out into a well worn exasperation. His default mood. Kid would be over it completely by dinner and Tim could have the secret identity talk again without worrying about John ignoring it to spite him. Jason felt Tim's silent sigh as the man almost melted against Jason's side.

John stirred slightly and grinned up at them, "Yeah, well Guy Gardner's the best Lantern. He's funny."

Tim's eyes narrowed, tension snapping through his body again. "When did you meet Gardner?"

And that was Jason's cue to leave.

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What only a select few people know is that Guy Gardner is the freaking child whisperer. He's really, really good with them and they all adore the crap out of him. So, John was really in good hands the day Jason desperately resorted to a mass text through Oracle for a babysitter. Though it cost him several pounds of candy to bribe John not to do anything Guy carefully coached the kid to do to Batman. Well, until Jason can get those tamper proof cameras placed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Future Domestic  
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**A Word**: Future Friday for JayTim week.

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Tim pauses at the top of the third flight of stairs to massage his right knee. It's been raining for a week solid and he's getting perilously close to conceding he might need to use the elevator as the persistent ache in the knee refuses to subside. The joint hasn't been right since a fall in his late thirties required surgery to reset it. It left him with aches that get worse in certain weather and it only seems to be getting worse as the years go by.

It's pure stubborn pride that's kept Tim from using the elevator. They only live on the fourth floor, he's reasoned, and old age is no reason to let himself go. Tim smiles wryly to himself and forces himself up the last flight. Jason'll love hearing Tim's concession. He's been arguing to get a first floor apartment if Tim won't stop taking the stairs.

Home is right next to the stairwell. The door is unlocked and Tim has half a second to worry before the knob is twisting in his hand and the whole thing swings wide open. A bright eyed little girl stares up at him and squeals, "Granpa! Granpa, I told a story and milk came out of Popa's nose!"

"Really?" There's a hacking cough from the kitchen that doesn't sound harsh enough for Tim to worry about just yet. So he focus a stern frown on his granddaughter. "That's funny but what have we told you about opening doors, Ces? You can't do that on your own. Let an adult do it, okay?"

"But I'm a _big_ girl now. Daddy says so!" Cessily whines even as she looks down from Tim's face. Her face screws up in an adorable pout that she gets from her father. Tim wonders if John ever looks back on his childhood and regrets the things he's put Tim and Jason through now that he has his own little girl to do the same things to him.

"Yep, you're seven and you are getting so big," Tim ruffles Ces' curly hair until she giggles and hugs him around the waist. "But there's bigger people in the city and it's best an adult check before opening the door. Alright?"

"Ok," the word is sullen and drawn out in a way that only children can manage.

"That's my girl," Tim ushers the girl inside, and slowly turns to engage the locks behind them. His knee twinges at the movement, and Tim sighs. Maybe it's also time to start wearing that knee brace that the doctors have been harping on him to use for so long. "Let's go make sure your Popa hasn't drowned in milk, Ces."

Ces streaks into the kitchen in a blur of flapping skirts and giggles. The girl is a box of unfocused energy and glee that Tim envies sometimes. If she could move a little faster, she'd remind him of Bart when he was just learning to be.

Tim follows slowly and finds his granddaughter trying to fish a cookie out of a jar. Without the aide of the step stool that's only three inches away. Jason's back is to them both as he's bent over the kitchen sink. Hands braced on the counter and his shoulders shaking with suppressed coughs. Tim reaches over Ces' head and pulls out one of the pink wafer cookies she likes before moving to Jason.

"You alright?" Tim places his hand on Jason's back and rubs. This close he can hear the worrying rasp that's lingering far too long after Jason's fight with the common cold for Tim's liking. The same doctors that admonish Tim to take care of his knee aren't so worried about it though. Claiming that age and a history of smoking would do that.

"Fine," Jason grits out with a harsh cough that sounds like it's dragging internal organs up with it. He shrugs out of Tim's hands and coughs a few more times before drawing in a deep breath. "The little princess got me good though."

"Hm," Tim pulls Jason around and smiles at him. The lines around his blue eyes have grown deeper with this last illness, but they're still rivaled by the crown crease in his forehead and the laugh lines around his mouth. Jason smiles back, raking a lock of his solid white hair back from his face before pulling Tim in for a light kiss. Tim pulls back just as the gagging noises start up behind him. "So, she said. Milk out of the nose, again? Not pleasant."

"Not one bit," Jason's breathing easier now, the rasp still there but the coughing subsiding for the moment. "Think she's ready for the ultimate test yet?"

"I don't know," Tim pretends to think, ignoring the excited cries of, "Yes, yes, yes!" behind him. He leans into Jason. Taking some weight off his right leg. "Damian is a notoriously difficult challenge. I'm not sure our young padawan is ready to try and troll him yet."

"Granpa! I can do it!" Ces shrills earnestly and Tim has to muffle a laugh against Jason's shoulder. "Really! Unca' Dick said I could too."

"Well, if Dick said," Jason allows with fake thoughtfulness as he pokes Tim's back. Prodding him to play along some more.

"If Dick said so, then it must be true," Tim relents gamely. He turns around to watch the girl laugh and bounce in place. The resemblance to Bart is uncanny in that moment. Tim lowers his voice and asks, "How much sugar have you given her exactly?"

"Just enough to make John's life interesting," Jason answers with a sly grin. "He called. Said he'd be by after work to pick her up for a play date with that artist chick he's been seeing."

"Jason," Tim sighs and refrains from giving his well rehearsed lecture on interfering with their son's love life. At this point in their lives he knows that Jason will just ignore it. "He's _thirty-two_."

"And she's _twenty_," Jason fires back. A stubborn light entering his eyes. "Bit young to be ready for a kid. So, if she can't handle a hyperactive girl, then it's best he learn that now instead of later when Ces' attached. When they're _both_ attached."

"What am I going to do with you?" Tim asks with a smile that he can't help, even though he knows John and Jason will have one of their screaming matches over this before it's done.

"You're going to go out and sit on the couch," Jason says with a pointed look to the leg Tim's been favoring, "and you're going to let me finish lunch before Ces gets too hopped up on sugar to digest real food."

"I wanna watch Brave!" Ces insinuates herself between them. Her hands clutching at Tim's jacket as she gives him a pleading look. "Can we? Please?"

"Yes," Tim tells the empty spot the girl used to be in. The sounds from the other room letting him know she was already looking through the shelves for her favorite movie. "I feel like we should worry more about spoiling her."

"Not our job, babe," Jason lands a wet, smacking kiss against Tim's head before pushing him toward the living room. "We're the grandparents. It's our job to undermine all the things that John's trying to teach her. Just make sure she doesn't break anything. Dick's brood has been teaching all the kids just enough acrobatics to get into trouble."

Tim shakes his head and goes to do just that.


End file.
